


Bride of Fire

by erolyn2



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:36:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erolyn2/pseuds/erolyn2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by GRRM's reading from Worlds of Ice and Fire at Worldcon. Rhaenys and Visenya discuss their impending triple marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bride of Fire

When her sister entered her bedchamber, Rhaenys did not turn from her mirror. Instead she chose to stubbornly continue combing her fine silver hair, uninclined to meet Visenya's eyes after the events of this day. The older woman waited calmly behind her, arms folded, until finally Rhaenys had to break the silence.

“I take it our brother has told you," she began, sharper than she had intended.

He had only told _her_ this morning, in a mumbled sort of half-proposal in the hallway.

“About his marriage plans? It was my idea, sweet sister.”

 _That_ made Rhaenys pause her brushing. “ _Your_ idea? Why?” Visenya was the one who was supposed to be Aegon's bride; they had known it all their lives. Why would she want a rival for her husband's affection?

“Any fool could see he desires you, Rhaenys. And what man would not?” Visenya reached down to finger a pale curl of her sister’s fine hair. “You have grown into quite a beauty, little one.”

Rhaenys blushed a little and was instantly irritated at the way the splash of pink made the face in her mirror seem even more appealingly girlish. She set the comb down and finally turned her head to face Visenya, who seemed rather proud of her unorthodox matchmaking.

“But it is customary for a man to wed only his eldest sister,” she protested.

“It is not unheard of for a Targaryen to take two wives. Not customary, true, but possible. And sister…these are important times.”

“How so?”

“There are but three dragons left, love. The Black Dread bore two eggs instead of one…what do you think that means?”

“That we are fortunate our remaining dragon is so fertile.”

Visenya laughed, high and cold.

“It means, clever one, that there are three dragons, and there must be three riders.”

“I can ride alongside you and your husband, elder sister. I will always be your blood.”

“And whom will you wed, pretty thing? A common lord of the sunset kingdoms? A half-brother, of tainted blood?” Rhaenys saw the blush creep in again – she had considered their brother Orys, who had grown tall and strong of late, but how could Visenya have known? “No. That is not for you, my dear. You are of the last blood of Valyria. A dragon lord. A Targaryen.”

Aegon was supposed to marry Visenya. That had always been the plan. Rhaenys loved her brother dearly, but he was quiet and brooding, and she had imagined for herself a husband who would laugh and sing with her. What sort of a life would she have with sullen Aegon, under Visenya’s shadow?

She raised her head and turned back to her mirror, determined for once not to let her sister convince her with sweet words. “What greater things was I born for, in your estimation?”

Visenya leaned closer, until her hair fell across Rhaenys’ shoulder and her breath fell hot in her ear.

“Conquest, my dear,” she said softly. “Blood and fire.”

“You cannot mean-”

“Of course I do. You must have known one day we would take the Seven Kingdoms for our own.”

Had she known? Dragonstone was sizeable enough for the remains of their family, but three growing dragons would need more space…and she certainly knew her siblings. Restless, ambitious, full of fire – they would not be content with a meager rock in the middle of a narrow sea. But it was all Rhaenys had known, their stone in the bay, and for her it was home. Why must there be war?

Visenya stepped back a bit so that her deep violet eyes met her sister’s in the glass.

“Now is the time. The kings of Westeros battle one another; the Storm King and Black Harren of the Iron Isles are in endless argument, and the land just inside this very bay is held only by a few minor lords. We have fire, dear sister, and we can take them.”

“And you cannot do so without me?”

Her sister paused, hesitant to admit that there was any task she could not accomplish on her own.

“We will do so much more easily with you,” she tried, circling around to Rhaenys’ left side like a serpent.

“This is your destiny, sister. It must be met. If you join us, your name will be spoken of for thousands of years. You will be the queen of seven kingdoms. A conqueror. A heroine. You could wed another and still aid our quest, true, but if you marry Aegon, your children will be kings.”

“And queens?”

“Yes, my dear. Queens as well.”

Visenya reached for her hands and drew her up from her chair. Even standing, even fully grown, Rhaenys had to arch her neck to look her elder sister full in the face.

“Close your eyes, darling. Can’t you see them? Little princes and princesses of Westeros, with violet eyes and silver hair?”

She could, suddenly, but only one. Only a small pale girl with her sister’s eyes, drowned in flames. _Bride of fire_ , Rhaenys thought, not knowing from whence the words came or what they meant.

She opened her eyes and met her Visenya’s gaze.

“Alright,” she sighed, “You always get your way.”

Her sister clapped her hands in an unusually girlish display of joy and grabbed her face, kissing both cheeks.

“Oh, sweet sister, you will not rue this day, I swear it.”

She took Rhaenys’ hands in her own again, smiling.

“Today is the day our reign begins.”


End file.
